


Deal with a Devil

by EvilRobotCat



Series: Fear [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Illustrated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilRobotCat/pseuds/EvilRobotCat
Summary: A new transportation system is being built in the Icicle region, and Reeve must activate the system in person.  He invites Vincent along as a bodyguard.  For several days they mix business and pleasure.  Then something goes horribly wrong in the mountains...





	Deal with a Devil

 Vincent never answered the first phone call.

The first was an announcement, I want to speak with you. However many more unanswered calls were a conversation all on their own - how much the vampire's audience was desired, and how deeply he didn't want to grant it. For Cloud the limit was two; it was rare for him to work up the courage to call his living idol, and his reasons for calling were usually important. Yuffie, caught one too many times seeking casual conversation, rarely made it through at all. Reeve didn't have time to wait around listening to the purr of a phone. He simply texted locations and expected Vincent to be there when he arrived. Ever the dependable Turk, Vincent always appeared, ready to follow orders, however much he grumbled.

Familiar with Vincent's unusual system and certain he would be on the line for a while, Reeve leaned his head to sandwich the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and occupied himself with the actual sandwich in his left hand. By the second ring his mouth was full of bread, mayo, and ham, and he was completely unprepared for the sudden click of the call being answered.

"What is it?" Vincent asked quickly. In the half-second it took Reeve to find his napkin and spit into it, Vincent persisted with a sense of urgency. "Where are you?"

"I didn't expect you to pick up the phone," Reeve explained, wiping his mouth.

"Then why did you call?" Grouchiness replaced the alarm in Vincent's voice. Reeve couldn't help a small smile. Had Vincent been worried for him?

"Perhaps I just wanted to hear your voice."

"I'm going to hang up."

"I need you to meet me at Icicle." This time there was no trace of humor in Reeve's tone.

The connection didn't sever as Vincent had warned. He took orders better than flirtation. It was a language he could understand. Reeve's smile returned momentarily before he continued.

"Monsters have been attacking supply trucks on the way from the village to a WRO station. We're building a cable system to carry the supplies high above the monsters' reach, but I have to inspect certain parts of the installation in person."

"You need a bodyguard," Vincent concluded.

"Wonderful," Reeve praised.

"Not that hard to guess. You rarely ask for anything else lately." From the sound alone Vincent's spirit didn't seem to have improved. But he didn't say no, either.

"Be there tomorrow. It may take a few days. And there's something else..."

"What?"

"Resources are limited, what with the extra crew required to install the machinery, security-"

"Just tell me."

"We'll be sharing a room."

The silence that followed would have worried Reeve when they first met, but now he waited for Vincent's response without fear.

"I'll be there."

With that, the call dropped. Greetings and farewells were unknown to Vincent. To him the phone was a tool for receiving orders and making arrangements, little else. Most of their group of friends thought it rude, but Reeve chose to interpret Vincent's blunt phone etiquette as romantic. One couldn't gab on a phone while exploring haunted houses in deep forests or lamenting the cruelty of fate in a tomb. It ruined the image.

Unfortunately, there was a robot double to be programmed, a suitcase to pack, and a helicopter to board. Reeve's fantasies would have to wait. If luck was with him, Vincent would be game to act out a few of them in the hotel before he disappeared under his shroud of mystery once again.

 

* * *

 

Reeve flopped onto his back and drew in deep gulps of air. He'd completely forgotten to breathe in those last few seconds above Vincent, and it had caught up to him.

"You're amazing," he managed as his gasps slowed into deep, contented breaths.

"You're the one who does all the work," Vincent replied with a faint smile. "All I did was show up."

"You helped with the buckles," Reeve pointed out. "Why do you wear so many?"

"Valentine tradition."

"That's all?"

Vincent shrugged, "Do they bother you?"

"The opposite." Reeve sat up and drew his fingertips over Vincent's bone white chest in lazy circles. "Removing them is like opening a present."

Vincent raised his eyebrows slightly.

"It's not a present if you ordered what's inside."

Reeve's fingers slowed over Vincent's skin for a fraction of a heartbeat, then resumed. His hesitation wasn't short enough to escape the notice of a Turk, however long Vincent had been out of his profession. He directed a somber frown up to Reeve.

"What's wrong?"

"I'd say everything is just right," Reeve hummed back. When his gentle fib didn't pass, he bowed his head in submission. "Every time I call, you come."

"That's the idea," Vincent confirmed. The shadow deepened between his eyebrows.

"I've worked with the Turks before, I _know_ what..." Rather than finish his thought, Reeve sighed and began afresh. "Am I just using you, Vincent?"

A simple question, several years overdue.

Reeve couldn't remember when their relationship of business and pleasure had begun. The night of Meteorfall, he'd become separated from his Turks - his for just a few hours, until Rufus was located alive. By chance or some superhuman ability, Vincent had found him and shielded Reeve and Yuffie with his cloak as the Second Calamity bore down on Midgar. A futile gesture, but one that filled Reeve's heart with warmth.

In the days that followed, Reeve had barely slept, lost track of his own life as he tried to rebuild a world still falling apart. His connections to Avalanche and Shinra severed, Reeve could only guess he'd let his loneliness get the better of him when Vincent appeared to offer his services as a gunner. One night of weakness could be forgotten, but it continued for weeks, then months. All Reeve had to do was tell him where and when. Vincent never refused, and Reeve... Reeve never asked if he wanted to.

Now, lying completely bare before him in their hotel bed, Vincent stared silently at the ceiling, lost in an internal debate he'd probably never share with Reeve. His eyes closed.

"You remind me of her," he confessed. "If her heart was set on something, nothing could stop her. I thought she wanted me. When I offered her my heart, I learned her love was only an illusion."

"And now?" Reeve prodded gently.

"And now there's you, pushing me around, telling me what to do, giving meaning to a life that has no purpose."

"Vincent-"

"I accept what we have," Vincent interrupted. "Please. I can't bear to lose you, Reeve."

Now Vincent was the liar. What they had wasn't enough for him, but he was afraid of the consequences that might come with asking for more. But Reeve hadn't traded his soul to Jenova like Lucrecia. His life wasn't static like hers, it had a time limit. With the years he had left, he was no longer satisfied with just a moonlight affair.

Reeve took Vincent's hand into his.

"You won't lose me," he promised. "Come home with me, Vincent."

Vincent stared at Reeve, his scowl a poor mask for the astonishment in his eyes. He drew a breath and opened his mouth, whether to reprimand or argue was anyone's guess because no sound came out. It wasn't a casual invitation, they both knew that. Reeve's thumb brushed over the top of Vincent's hand in subtle encouragement. Vincent drew his hand back and turned away. Reeve pursued.

"I could make it an order. You haven't let me down yet."

"I might surprise you." Vincent's voice was gruff. Another weak disguise; one Reeve could see through, but mercifully didn't out.

Reeve touched Vincent's shoulder with his right hand, and Vincent accepted it, his head lowered in defeat.

"I can't. I'm..."

Reeve's hand slid upward, lifted Vincent's hair over his neck. He placed a kiss there. Silence slowly replaced his futile attempt to break through the prison of Vincent's turmoil. Reeve's palm lowered down the path of Vincent's spine to rest between his shoulders.

"I understand. I won't ask again."

Vincent sighed. He didn't face Reeve, but his left hand, the only part of him still encased in leather and metal drifted back to rest over Reeve's on the tangled sheets.

"Thank you."

 

* * *

 

For the umpteenth time that day, Reeve was overcome by a full-body shiver, and he hunched deeper into his heavy coat. An entire week in the land of eternal winter hadn't strengthened his resistance to the cold. He stomped his feet in a futile attempt to warm up, and cast a look of undisguised envy at Vincent, who stood beside him in his usual attire. All the buckles of his mantle were fastened, but he had taken no other precautions against the frigid climate.

They were miles away from the little hamlet of Icicle, standing at the base of a round steel structure that rose three stories into the sky. The cables between these monoliths had yet to be strung, but the base hummed with electricity within. The planet was still healing and power couldn't be wasted. Every day the cable system didn't deliver supplies to the lookout post, it was doing just that. Once the stations were live and attuned to each other, they would activate one at a time, significantly reducing the amount of power consumed. That was why Reeve's crew were committed to activate the last of the stations today, despite the snowstorm that had blown up at dawn.

"Commissioner, if you would please?"

"Yes, I was just about to."

With a poorly hidden wince, Reeve removed his gloves and pressed his fingers to the touchscreen. The system recognized his fingerprints, required them to access the program and make changes to it. For the past five days he had given serious contemplation to simply cutting his fingers off and handing them to a technician to carry on without him. He doubted he would even feel it over the ache of his frozen joints.

"I should have done this at headquarters and shipped the computers north," Reeve grumbled to himself. He didn't anticipate an answer. Vincent didn't talk freely around strangers, and his deathly countenance made the rest of the crew uneasy. Sliding his gloves back on and shoving his hands into his pockets, Reeve said, "Well, that's the last of them. Should we run a drill to see if the connection is sound?"

"Maybe we should head back, sir," suggested a crew member. He cast uncertain eyes to Vincent, then quickly away. "Dusk comes early this time of year, and the weather's getting bad."

"It wasn't bad before?"

"Worse, sir."

Reeve sighed and looked in the direction he assumed was south. There was no point in putting everyone in danger, and besides, his shared room had a fireplace and a couch just big enough for two. If Vincent was half as energetic tonight as he had been every other night this week, Reeve doubted they'd come out until at least lunchtime tomorrow.

"Call the followup crew and inform them we're heading back," Reeve directed. "Let's get this equipment packed up."

"They're not answering."

"Hm? Must be a bad signal. Keep trying. We'll meet them halfway if we can't get through."

Reeve's encouragement was stolen away by a stiff wind that cut through his clothing and into his bones. The half-frozen men and women silently boarded the small craft that carried them over the snow.

 

* * *

 

 

The coach was rudimentary, and running on a coarse blend of gasoline and the summons knew what that rattled the engine even in clear weather and a smooth path. The driver was a local who'd only laughed when Reeve tried to ask him about safety. All week it had been a source of discomfort and unease among the small crew, but as the wind escalated to a roar that even drowned out the sound of the motor, everyone was grateful for the rickety metal box, however it jerked and sputtered on its journey back toward Icicle.

Though it couldn't have peaked at more than fifteen miles per hour, the craft gave everyone aboard a jolt when it came to a sudden stop from top speed. The passengers in the back found themselves in the laps of those in front. They disentangled themselves with grumbles.

"What's going on? Engine trouble?"

Reeve's question went unanswered, and as he looked beyond the driver out the ice-coated window he no longer needed one. Where there should be pristine snow the landscape was torn apart and thrown back into place upside down. Hard-frozen earth had been churned up as easily as a freshly sown springtime garden. The sparse remaining patches of snow were quickly being filled back in, but the falling snow couldn't obscure the splashes of brilliant red that painted the scenery.

Ignoring a warning hand from Vincent, Reeve pushed himself out the door and onto the ground to survey the site. His bodyguard followed without complaint - that would follow when they were out of immediate danger. Right behind them were the members of the WRO, guns drawn.

"Hello?" Reeve called. "Is anyone alive?"

"What is this, sir?" asked a technician clutching a rifle with the same ease he'd shown his electrical equipment all day. No matter the job description, every member of the organization was familiar with weaponry. The world was too dangerous, the missions they undertook too risky for a single staffer not to double as a capable soldier.

For the sea of blood and the stench of death hanging in the air around them, there were no bodies to be found. No human attacker, then. Some sort of beast hunting for food. But what unfortunate creatures had been its victims? Reeve knelt by a twisted spear jutting out of the snow and shook his head. A familiar emblem was molded into the butt of the blade, a smiling cat Reeve knew as well as his own reflection. After all, it _was._

Reeve drew a breath and had to cover his mouth before he turned around. The faces staring at him were grim. Coworkers, friends wouldn't join them in the tavern tonight. Heads lowered, names were whispered in quiet loss; those of lost companions and favored deities.

"This snow is too light." Vincent announced, drawing attention to the blood. "Five minutes ago. Ten at the most."

"Then it's still close," Reeve concluded. "Everyone back onto the coach."

Before his order could be obeyed, an icy gale blasted the crew, deafening them with an unearthly wail. There wasn't enough time to cover their ears, to even register that the sound was different this time, before a wall of red scale-coated muscles and hand-length teeth burst through the trees and into their midst.

The driver of the coach was snapped up by massive jaws, tossed into the air and plucked out of it with a strangled scream. In the same instant Reeve was shoved to the side by a golden gauntlet. Cerberus flashed with rapid speed at the vlakorados before it even had the chance to make the director a target. Though Vincent made his mark, the reptilian beast's thick hide protected it from what would surely have killed dragons in warmer climates.

His gunfire was just as quickly echoed by the WRO. Two machine guns, several rifles, and a flash of light as a blade master attacked the monster head-on. The battle would quickly have turned in the humans' favor if the vlakorados' death cry had not been answered by three others in the distance. Its body had not even made contact with the ruddy ground before its pack appeared from the other side of the clearing seeking vengeance.

One charged into the group and managed to hook a technician on its truck-length shoulder spikes. It went into a death roll and took out another gunner as the blade master slammed into its belly with his sword. It reared its head with a scream of rage and lunged after its killer - only to freeze in place and fall slack, its head peppered with well-aimed bullets from Reeve's pistol.

Two monsters remained, the crew reduced to less than half their number in less than a minute. Vincent charged the smaller of the two, flung himself toward it with the finesse of a man unafraid of death, and pressed the end of Cerberus directly against its forehead, just behind the eye. With two pumps of the trigger, the vlakorados was out of the fight, but its body flailed and shuddered, rendering it a temporary hazard of the terrain. Its whiplike tail swept across the clearing faster than the eye could see, slicing the coach in half as easily as if it was made of aluminum foil, and the crew's number was cut down yet again.

"Vincent!" Reeve ordered with a gesture at the last remaining monster.

Without waiting for or even needing explanation, Vincent joined the two remaining gunners to form a pincer against their target. Driven into a frenzy by the loss of its pack and the spray of gunfire from seemingly all sides, the vlakorados didn't seem to know where to attack. It charged straight ahead, toward Reeve. Wide-eyed, he raised his gun - no match for a dragon and he knew it, but damned if he would run when so many lives had just been thrown away for pursuing his ambitions. His finger barely pressed the trigger when a flash of light and a loud bang from Cerberus stilled the creature's limbs. Pure momentum pitched it forward to land before Reeve's feet. A geyser of blood sprayed over him, the spine severed at the base of the skull. Only its poison-barbed head whip moved, frantically swinging from side to side. Reeve jumped out of the way - one lash from the barb could be fatal long after the vlakorados was dead.

His back bumped into something and he turned sharply to see Vincent behind him, already pulling Reeve further away from the monster with a bruising grip. From around the still monster jogged the other two gunners, the last survivors of the crew that had faithfully trekked into the mountains with Reeve every day for the past week. The four stared at each other in silence for a long minute, none of them sure what to say.

"These things don't even..." One said at last, attempting to make sense of the attack.

"Winter makes them hungry, drives 'em up into the mountains," the other said. "My... my granddad's from this region. Used to talk about it a lot."

Reeve lowered his head into a reluctant nod.

"What matters now is staying alive. There's a shelter marked on my map not far from here. We can rest there for the night."

 

* * *

 

Vincent took the lead, not so much a navigator as impervious to the elements and a beacon in his crimson cloak. Reeve followed after him, and at his back the two WRO crew, weapons drawn, each keeping an eye on a different side of the ice-locked forest. They'd killed four gargantuan monsters, but that didn't mean there were no more lurking under the protection of trees and snow.

However slow the rickety snow craft had been, the going was much slower on foot in the middle of a blizzard. The last traces of thin sunlight dulled away into an eerie grey, and then darkness that closed in tightly around the group. The winds died down, but the snow fell relentlessly over them, like a silent death sentence.

"Can you see ahead?" Reeve struggled to ask through his rattling teeth.

"I can't see through snow," Vincent denied.

"We're gonna die out here, aren't we?" groaned the young man at Reeve's right shoulder.

"The shelters have supplies," Reeve said instead of answering.

"Don't guess anyone's got some fire materia," suggested the woman at his left.

"That would only draw monsters to us at this hour," Vincent said, dampening the mood even further. In a show of mercy he added, "It must be close now."

"You sense something nearby?" Reeve asked hopefully.

"I'm just tired of walking. Even I have my limit."

The conversation was abandoned and the oppressive silence dominated once again.

 

* * *

 

 

Around midnight the wind began to swirl. Whether they were eager for death to claim them or simply desperate to hear something, anything, the small group's spirits seemed to lift.

"There," Vincent said suddenly, pointing to a sign nailed to a tree. "It's just ahead of-"

A nearby snow drift exploded with a hiss that rattled the snow out of the trees. What emerged from it was impossible to see but for the daggerlike teeth that glowed from the light of its own red eyes. Long unused, but smelling of humans, the shelter had become a draw to another herd of vlakorados. Exhausted and senses dulled, the survivors had stumbled right into a den of sleeping monsters.

Perhaps it was their exhaustion, or the stiffness in their half-frozen limbs that slowed their reactions to the attack. Vincent withdrew Cerberus and aimed for the reptile before him. The two soldiers at Reeve's back gave warning shouts that turned into mangled screams cut short in an instant. Vincent turned his back to the monster and fixed his widening eyes on Reeve - alive, shoved out of the way in the critical attack, but vulnerable on his hands and knees in the deep snow. He didn't stand a chance to survive, let alone fight back against the trap of teeth and venom that would return for him the moment his companions' dead bodies were swallowed.

Vincent started toward Reeve. The familiar steely determination was gone from his eyes, replaced by an ice cold wall of dread. With his sole focus before him, he couldn't have seen or heard the spurred tail that swept behind him. Helpless, Reeve cried out a warning already too late. In that moment their eyes met. The dull confusion in Vincent's face didn't belong there. Crimson splashed between them as the brutal hook of the vlakorados' tail pierced outward from Vincent's stomach and followed through, effectively cutting him in half.

Time seemed to stop as Vincent pitched forward, but the world tilted around Reeve rapidly. Darkness overtook him so quickly, he wasn't even aware of the sharp blow to the back of his head. The snow burned his skin as he fell into it.

And then there was nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

Hot.

Hot, and throbbing head.

All the way into his shoulders and down the length of his limbs, making his fingers and toes pulse in time.

Reeve touched his forehead - or tried to and found he couldn't move. His body was tightly bound somehow. Hot metal all around him... Some kind of oven?

Bracing himself against the halo of burning light that would surely come, he opened his eyes.

Or tried to.

Were those bound, too?

He groaned against the sensation that overwhelmed every cell in his body. It was all he could do anymore.

Before him, all around him, a low voice softly laughed. Reeve's captor was pleased with his quarry.

"Is that too much for you?" The tone was affectionate, with an underlying hint of malice. "I planned only to kill you, but this is exquisite."

Words refused to come to Reeve's mouth, so all he could do was groan again. He struggled against whatever magic bound him, but the effort was futile. With a tired sigh he relaxed into the sensation pounding through him and trusted it to guide him to whatever end it had planned.

Laughter again.

So this brought his captor joy?

"More than you could fathom," the voice replied. "I exist for this. I live for it. And you do it _beautifully."_

If he were fully in control of himself, Reeve knew he would be outraged at the words. But he wasn't right now. All he could muster was the vague understanding that this person... this _thing_... could read his thoughts. His realization didn't seem to merit a response, and he was alone again, a prisoner of his imposed full body migraine in a hot metal shell.

 

 

* * *

 

He must have fallen asleep, because he awoke with a gasp. He could breathe! He could see! Blue light blinded him to everything and strained his irises so much he could feel them strain to close. Closing his eyes would only create phantoms in his eyes, so Reeve stared at the light and let his eyes adjust to it.

Gradually shapes formed within the light, slowly swirling galaxies in brilliant detail. Reeve imagined he could see stars and planets if he looked hard enough. No computer screen could create images that sharp. What was this?

"A prison sentence," came the wry response above him. "But also a promise of salvation. Both the map and the cosmos I long to sail when all life perishes at my hand."

Oh.

"You're Chaos," Reeve said without emotion.

"You remember me."

The shell encasing him, Chaos' body he concluded, shifted ever so slightly, and Reeve knew the creature was smiling. It enjoyed recognition as well as the suffering of others.

"I saved you," Chaos pointed out, unvexed.

"You wanted to kill me."

"I still might."

A hand caressed the side of Reeve's face. The light took the form of the protomateria, half exposed in a hollow in Chaos' armor. Was it armor or the creature's body?

"You're... a Weapon, aren't you?" Reeve inquired. "A protector of the planet. Why are you so different from the others?"

"I love the planet as much as my brethren do," Chaos explained freely. His hold on Reeve tightened, until he could barely breathe. "I reap the life abundant within it, gather it to myself and not return it to the cycle of rebirth. My role is different, and therefore my will and my tastes."

"And the planet allows that?"

"She will have what is hers when the time comes. I will present all life to her with my own hands, and perhaps she will forgive a few personal trophies."

"Trophies like me," Reeve supposed.

"Aren't you brave," Chaos taunted. "Won't you beg for your life?"

"I'm too tired."

"Brave indeed..."

As if granting him a reward, the walls pressing in on Reeve withdrew just an inch, and he slumped in his prison of powerful limbs and dark wings. Chaos' gauntlet - more elaborate and vicious-looking than Vincent's - rested over Reeve's chest. The tips, deadly enough to pierce bones, tickled as they drifted back and forth across Reeve's skin.

Vincent...

Unbidden, Reeve's final vision of Vincent rose to the front of his mind and his face tightened in agony. The man he loved had been slaughtered, torn apart, and eaten in the woods like an animal. Reeve's stomach knotted. He wished those claws would go all the way through his chest and end his pain!

A tremor passed through Chaos' body and radiated out to his wings. His fingers twitched, but didn't grant Reeve's fatal request.

"You are a _treasure."_ Chaos' voice deepened with an emotion that felt genuine. "Vincent doesn't truly value what he has. He can't handle you the way you _should_ be."

"He's dead!" Reeve bit out through clenched teeth. Faster than his own heartbeat he felt his energy ebb, replaced by the heavy sensation from before. Of course Chaos would savor this, too. Anger surged behind his grief and Reeve grabbed the hot metal band of Chaos' wrist. "If you want to kill me, just do it!"

Chaos lifted his gauntlet free of Reeve's grip, and Reeve tensed, fearing the blow as much as he welcomed it. Instead metal digits combed through his hair in a soothing gesture. The leather-like palm cradled Reeve's face and to his own surprise, Reeve leaned into Chaos' touch with a raw sob.

"He will live," Chaos said gently.

"He was- I _saw-_!" Reeve choked. He couldn't will the words to come.

Once again Chaos drew Reeve closer to himself. This time the feeling was completely different. His hard, sharp body was inviting, his arms and wings gentle. In the core of his soul, Reeve knew he was being embraced by his own death, but he allowed it. _Craved_ it. Haunted by the horrible memory of Vincent's torso buckling in on itself and the lifeless haze dulling his eyes, Reeve found this sentient prison transformed into a shelter. What was the point of living when everything he loved was taken from him so violently? His family, his city, and now Vincent...

All had died under Reeve's guidance. Their deaths were his fault.

Reeve drew a shuddering breath and tried to focus on the patient strokes against his back. The final blow would come. He deserved it. He _needed_ it.

"You give so much of yourself and never ask for a reward."

The words were familiar to Reeve. Had Chaos picked his deepest memories while he slept? Or did they simply have something in common? The thought was fleeting; the answer didn't matter.

"Is this what you want?"

Reeve didn't respond.

"I am not a benevolent spirit," Chaos reminded him. "I will take everything you offer. More than you have within you."

"Just take it," Reeve whispered. "I want to die."

The sooner the better. Let his nightmare end.

The fingertips stilled on his back, then resumed with a murmur of admiration. Chaos' surprise, however honest, was just another painful reminder of what Reeve had lost tonight.

"In time."

"Now," Reeve pleaded.

"We'll do this again," Chaos promised. "Often. I hope you look forward to it as much as I do."

Had the angel of death rejected him? Why was everyone punished but him? How long would he have to relive the memories of his failures? Tears blinded Reeve to the glow of the ancient materia. Chaos uttered a command above him and Reeve was shrouded in empty darkness all over again.

 

* * *

 

His body was warm and comfortable, but quickly chilling. It was colder than a blanket being withdrawn or water splashing onto his bed from an overzealous Cait Sith. Reeve's teeth chattered and he pushed himself up to find he wasn't in bed, but lying on red cloth spread over brilliant white snow. Red...

Vincent's cloak.

With a gasp and a lurch of his stomach, Reeve turned his head to see a shape beside him. Vincent's body, lying face up, his eyes closed as if in peaceful sleep. Reeve swallowed back his heart and reached out to touch him. His clothing was intact. It should be in tatters from the vlakorados' deathblow. His form underneath the shirt was solid. Healed?

"Vincent?" Reeve's breath didn't leave his throat the first time, and he had to try again. It took all of his willpower to make the thinnest call.

Vincent's eyes opened.

"Reeve," he acknowledged.

Vincent huffed out a grunt of surprise as Reeve flung himself down to embrace him. He struggled to pull air back into his lungs while Reeve trembled against him. After a moment of reflection, Vincent stopped pushing against Reeve's shoulders and patted them instead. The wetness on Vincent's shirt and the engineer's tremors had nothing to do with the snow.

"Was it that bad?" Vincent asked with renewed patience.

"I saw it kill you..."

"I never stay dead."

"There's a first time for everything." Reeve's voice hitched through his weak joke. "If I lost you, I couldn't-"

"It won't happen." Vincent kissed the crown of Reeve's head and sat up, taking Reeve with him. "Where are we?"

"I... don't know," Reeve answered honestly. He glanced around in a futile attempt to make sense of their surroundings. Snow and trees. "In the Icicle region, I think."

Seemingly struck by the return of his memories, Vincent inhaled sharply and grabbed Reeve's shoulder. "The dragon! Did it hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Reeve assured him.

"But how did you escape?"

"I..."

Reeve tried to conjure memories of where he had been leading up to this strange reunion. The visions his mind fed him were like some kind of fever dream. Chaos's body folding around his, stripping him of his rawest pain and laying it bare between them like a feast. Could it really have happened? Reeve's eyes roved over Vincent's middle, pristine in the winter sunlight. The way the cape was positioned, it could have been wrapped around them both overnight. Perhaps in the form of demon wings.

"I don't know."

 

* * *

 

Reeve's map was useless without a point of reference, so they simply picked a direction and started walking. With the weather calm and the sun almost warm, the going was easy, even if neither party knew where exactly they were going.

"We'll eventually reach the village or the beach," Vincent had reasoned without humor. Reeve had laughed anyway.

They had traveled for less than an hour like this when Vincent stopped. Following his example, Reeve stilled and waited.

"Do you hear calling?" Vincent asked.

Reeve drew his eyebrows together in concentration. Hear? No. But feel...

"Cait Sith."

"You had a tracking device in your pocket all this time?" Vincent demanded.

"I didn't think so! Is it so hard to believe that my loyal son would brave the elements to rescue his father?"

"That thing isn't your son."

"Well he's certainly not my daughter."

Vincent's bad mood was his only indication of relief. Reeve's teasing was likewise a language they both understood. They found each other's hands and clasped them for a moment. Affection was reserved for private quarters, but there was no place more isolated than the icy forest of Icicle.

"If I know Cait, he's got a rescue team with him," Reeve said. "They'll have us back at the inn before dinner. Will you stay the night with me?"

"The kitchen does make a nice beef stew," Vincent said with a half smile.

He reached up and tucked a finger under Reeve's chin, angling it to examine. The words that accompanied the unusual touch came from his mouth, but the voice was not Vincent's.

"I'm very much looking forward to tonight. Aren't you?" Coaxing and malicious, the voice of Chaos was alarmingly familiar.

"What," Reeve breathed, taking half a step back.

Vincent's hand was at his side, nowhere near Reeve's face. His eyes were lowered, his cheeks almost pink.

"I said let's go home," Vincent mumbled, almost Cloud-like in his shyness. "If... the invitation still stands."

"You changed your mind?" Reeve asked cautiously.

The blush on Vincent's face deepened as his expression became more serious. His words came out with a struggle.

"I can't do anything about the regrets of my past. But I can move forward without creating new ones." Vincent looked away. "Last night I felt I would sacrifice anything to save you."

"Maybe we have," Reeve murmured, his voice lost under the shouts of the rescue party breaking into the clearing. What kind of deal had they made with Vincent's devil? Something told him it was far too late to go back. Vincent was right. They could only move forward.

Together.

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wished that somebody would write a good old-fashioned blanket fic for these three. I took it upon myself and... royally fucked up the concept of blanket fic. But I like this better.


End file.
